


We Three Kings

by imitateslife



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms, Phantom - Susan Kay
Genre: Christmas, Friendship, Spiritual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-03-03 08:41:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2844890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imitateslife/pseuds/imitateslife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A single story teaches Nadir that the universal message of Christmas is applicable to everyone, including the outcasts of Paris. Not slash, but can be read as Pharoga if you wish. Old version can be found on FFN.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Three Kings

Christmas in Paris was a grand sight; homes were warm, inviting; aglow with hearth fire and love. But one apartment on the Rue de Rivioli did not share in the celebration. It was warmed by a midsized fireplace, but there was an absence of holiday cheer. Rather, two men sat on opposite ends of the main room.

"Look at that," said the shorter one from the window, "Look at those poor, insane infidels."

The other man said nothing; he made an indifferent noise and did not look up from the paper before him. Nadir Khan was writing his memoirs, such as they were, and the opinions of his servant, Darius, were given all the recognition they were worth. Nadir never had a problem with Christians, despite not sharing in their religion, but Darius always found something to complain about them. The Crusades of so long ago were every modern Christian's fault in Darius' eyes. But to Nadir, the Crusades were in the past and he didn't deny any other human being, whether they were Christian, Muslim, Jew, or Atheist an offer of friendship. Religious difference was no barrier for Nadir, just as language was no longer a barrier for him. He had learned French and he had grown accustomed to French culture. Paris was not Persia, after all. He couldn’t pretend it was. The only way of traveling back to his homeland was through his writing. Nadir continued to write, currently reminiscing about Erik's first year in Persia and the silly magic tricks he played for Reza. Those had been tense, but happy times. Reza had then been happiest and when his son had smiled and laughed, Nadir’s heart was light.

"Christians," Darius continued with disdain. He sounded like he was determined to be heard. "So full of silly notions. Their idea of worship is getting insanely drunk and singing songs at the top of their lungs. Drunkenness is no way to show respect and love for your god!"

Nadir set down his pen. His chair scraped across the floor and he rose, crossing the room to head towards the door. 

"Where do you think you're going?" Darius snapped. With a sharp look from Nadir, Darius demurred and sank back into his seat adding a quiet an obedient, "Master" in hopes to supplicate toward Nadir. 

_So he does remember his place, after all,_ Nadir thought coolly. _For a moment, I thought he’d forgotten._

"The Garnier," Nadir said, fastening his cloak. Darius cocked a bushy eyebrow but Nadir said nothing in response. He opened the door and stepped into the drafty hallway.

"Take care, Master," Darius said rushing after him.

Nadir, touched by Darius' concern, smiled, but added in a light tone, "Will the Christmas carolers trample me if I don't?"

Darius scowled. "It's cold. Take care not to catch cold."

Nadir laughed. "Thank you, Darius."

He shut the door behind him and made his way down the stairs and onto the street. It was, as Darius said, cold. Nadir could see his breath trailing before him and he gave a slight shiver, briefly longing for his native Persia, where he would at least be warm this time of year. He passed by three children singing loudly, their faces pink from effort and winter air. Nadir smiled at them; the eldest couldn't have been older than ten and yet they were out on the streets, unsupervised, caroling away. They had a small tin can which Nadir could only guess was slowly filling with centimes and francs from listeners. He paused to hear their song.

"Westward leading, still proceeding, guide us to the perfect Light…" they sang, before pausing for breath. Nadir inclined his head to listen better. Not far away, a couple stood listening as well, and an old man sitting on a nearby bench seemed to enjoy their song. The children began again. 'We three kings of Orient are bearing gifts we traverse afar… Field and fountain; moor and mountain; following yonder star. O star of wonder, star of night, star with royal beauty bright, westward leading, still proceeding, guide us to the perfect Light!"

They finished on a crescendo and received quiet applause from their audience. Nadir placed a few loose centimes in their can and turned to go.

"God bless you, sir, and merry Christmas!" called the youngest, a small blonde boy, whose face seemed to be split in a wide grin.

Nadir returned his smile with a weak one of his own before turning swiftly onto the Rue Scribe and finding the passage Erik had shown him. Somehow, that song had stuck in his head. As he walked, he hummed its tune, the words circulating through his head.

_We three kings of Orient are bearing gifts; we traverse afar… We three kings of Orient are bearing gifts; we traverse afar…_

Nadir knew that Europeans referred to anything in Asia as the Orient—even his own dear homeland was part of that hodgepodge of countries, mysterious and interchangeable to Europeans, despite stark cultural differences. Those children, though, hadn't known Nadir to be from Persia, however, so it had only been chance that he heard them singing that song. He was oddly, not offended by the term "Orient". He had once been, dismayed to think that Persia was othered by Europeans, but as the years marched on, Nadir began to see lines dividing all countries – not just the “Orient” – blur and disappear altogether. He was a citizen of the world, not of Persia, not even of France. 

But now the song was now embedded in his brain and his humming grew louder. He reached the lake and raised his hands to cup around his mouth.

"Erik!" he called out. "Erik!"

Across the water, he saw a shadowy figure glide across the bank and get into the boat by the water’s edge. Nadir smiled as his friend came into focus.

"Nadir," Erik greeted curtly. He sounded vaguely surprised by Nadir’s presence. "What brings you here tonight? Get in the boat."

Nadir obliged and smiled. "I was thinking of you, oddly."

"How touching," Erik remarked dryly, rowing the boat.

"I'm serious, Erik," Nadir insisted and he saw his friend's withered lips twist into a smile. Erik's golden eyes glinted beneath the mask and Nadir knew that although Erik would accept this reason, he would never believe it. Erik would always struggle with the idea that he had charmed himself into Nadir's good graces, making himself the best friend the Persian had ever known. Nadir knew that Erik hated to admit his reciprocal feelings of friendship towards him, but it was alright. Erik said it once, long ago: _"Your tiresome health has become very dear to me…"_

"Stop it," Erik said abruptly.

Nadir's head snapped up from its resting position on his hands. "Stop what?"

"Humming. You never were a musician, Daroga."

"Oh. Sorry to have offended your delicate ears."

Nadir had started humming that infernal song again, this time, without noticing it. He knew full well that Erik found his voice rough, untrained, and hard to listen to when Nadir sang, which he seldom did. Still. Erik didn’t have to be so damnably rude about it. They reached the other side of the lake and Erik's home and Erik gestured for Nadir to get out of the boat, which he did promptly. Erik swiftly followed in suit and tethered the boat.

"Take off your cloak if you plan on staying," Erik said irritably. "Unless this is a pity visit; then by all means, leave it on and I'll show you the door."

Nadir's jade eyes widened in surprise. "Pity visit?"

"It's Christmas Eve, Nadir," Erik said slowly, as if to a dim-witted child. "Did you not know that?"

Nadir shrugged and removed his cloak. "I know what day it is, Erik. But why would this be a pity visit?"

Erik gave a short, harsh laugh. "I know you; you always feel obligated to do the nice thing for poor unfortunates like Erik."

Nadir shook his head. "Don't be so bitter, Erik. It's Christmas Eve. I may be forced to pity you yet."

Erik shook his head with some silent form of laughter. "Would you care for some tea?"

"Yes, please," Nadir said, nodding.

"Sit down, I'll light the samovar," Erik said, gesturing to a nearby sofa before walking briskly across the room. 

Nadir did as he was told and waited for the masked man to return. Absently, the song worked its way into Nadir's throat and a low hum emanated from him. Erik returned a few minutes later, two steaming mugs in hand and he handed one to Nadir, who accepted it with a murmur of thanks. The two men drank their tea in silence. It had a distinctly peppermint taste to it which caught Nadir by surprise. Erik smiled proudly.

"Did you really think I ignored the holidays altogether, Nadir?" Erik asked. “For some reason, peppermint is customarily consumed this time of year.”

Nadir made a noncommittal gesture, shrugging and shaking his head side-to-side. It was just the quirky sort of thing he should have come to expect from Erik. It was one of the things most endearing—and frightening—about him; Erik was utterly unpredictable, even to those who knew him best. Sometimes, though, Erik surprised Nadir pleasantly – in both big ways and small. It was why Nadir had grown so fond of Erik in all these years; why he held out hope for Erik’s spirit to be turned towards good.

"So," Erik said, changing the subject, "Why exactly have you been humming since you arrived?"

Nadir shrugged again. "I passed some carolers on my way here and I can't get their song out of my head."

Erik set down his mug. "Oh? What song? One can barely recognize any tune you clumsily carry."

"I don't know the title," Nadir sighed. "It's something like: we three kings of orient are bearing gifts we..."

"Traverse afar?" Erik finished dully. "For someone with such well-honed detective skills, you can be somewhat ignorant. The song is called "We Three Kings".”

"Oh."

"Do you know anything about the story behind the song?" Erik asked.

Nadir shook his head and Erik looked at him with mild surprise which faded quickly. "No, I don't suppose you would. If I'm not mistaken, The Koran omits the tale of the magi."

"Magicians, Erik?" Nadir asked, his mouth twisting into a smile. "Magicians and Christmas? No wonder it was omitted, you know the Koran and other religious texts condemn…"

Erik held up a hand to silence his friend. Nadir knew Erik to be the greatest magician in the world, but they both knew that magicians and sorcerers and the like were condemned by formal religions everywhere.

"Zoroastrians, Nadir. Persian Zoroastrians, Nadir. They weren’t sorcerers. May I tell this story?"

Erik was a master story-teller, among his other accomplishments and even level-headed Nadir could not bring himself to say no to such an offer. He nodded almost eagerly.

"The three kings were Zoroastrian clerics. Traditionally, they are called Caspar, Balthazar, and Melchoir. But in my travels, I've heard them referred to as Larvandad, Gushnasaph, and Hormisdas. Pick whichever three names you prefer, that's unimportant. In any case, they were sent by King Herod to kill the Christ child. So they set out after him, following a star that, according to their scientific and religious texts, denoted the birth of a powerful child king. When they arrived to Jesus' manger bed, they were overcome with such emotion that they offered Him gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh. The gifts given are often recognized to symbolize virtue, prayer, and suffering. In any case, the wise men left Jesus and his family, heading in the opposite direction from Herod."

Nadir considered his mug of tea. "Are you implying that they were the first Christians?"

Erik chuckled. "No. They likely remained true to their own religion, but for the sake of the joyous occasion, they were able to set aside differences in religion, politics, and ethnicity in exchange for companionship and good will."

Nadir nodded slowly. "Someone should tell that story to Darius."

"Is he still prejudiced against Europeans?" Erik asked, smiling ironically. 

Erik had only deepened Darius’ distrust of foreigners. It had never ceased to drive Nadir mad that his two, closest companions distrusted and disliked one another. 

"And Christians, yes." Nadir said, not daring to say that Darius’ deep-seated disdain had only become further entrenched after meeting Erik. It didn’t matter that Erik was an atheist; if anything, it made Darius even tetchier than he would have been if Erik had had some kind of religion. Nadir paused, taking a swig of tea. Then, he said, "He was never good at making friends."

Erik laughed and picked up his tea. "Do you know why I told you that story?"

Nadir shook his head. His first thought was that Erik had told him the story to silence his humming. Another thought was that his friend was merely showing off his superior knowledge. But neither quite seemed right.

"I told you this story so that you could come away with a lesson."

"A morality tale?" Nadir chuckled, needing to put down his drink as not to spill it from body shaking laughter. Erik was not the right person to tell him morality tales.

"In a way, yes. I want you to enjoy your time in France; the culture, the food, the people, the holidays. Don't let Darius stop you from enjoying yourself. That's why you came, isn't it?"

Nadir flushed sheepishly. "I had been writing my memoirs, but he wouldn’t stop complaining about the Christmas carolers on the corner.”

Erik shook his head as Ayesha, his Siamese cat, came to jump up in his lap. Her neck was adorned with its typical diamond collar, but there was a bell added onto it with a surprising holiday twist. Erik stroked her lovingly before speaking again to Nadir, "You may be Muslim; I may have no religion, but that doesn't mean we outcasts cannot celebrate the one day a year when mankind believes all is right with the world."

Nadir smiled and raised his mug in a toasting gesture. Ayesha sprang from her master's lap and, uncharacteristically, came to rub her head against Nadir's leg. Nadir looked down at her in surprise. He watched her briefly before the cat decided she was bored with him and disappeared in the next room. A grandfather clock somewhere in the house struck midnight.

"It's late, Nadir, Darius will surely be worried about you," Erik said abruptly.

Nadir nodded as he rose and set his mug down on the coffee table between them. The two men clambered in the boat and sailed to the other side of the lake.

"Well, goodnight," Nadir said getting out. "And thank you."

Erik waved an airy hand. "Merry Christmas, _mon ami_."

Nadir smiled, "Merry Christmas, Erik."

Neither said another word as Nadir made his way back onto the dimly lit Parisian streets and Erik rowed back to his house on the lake. When he emerged onto the Rue Scribe and walked home, Nadir noted that the caroling children were gone. They retired for the night, to celebrate Christmas with their friends and family, just as Nadir was returning from his own holiday celebration. He turned onto the Rue de Rivioli and looked up at the clear sky, littered with blinking stars. And for a moment, he wondered which star had guided the three wise men in story Erik had spoken of. Though he could not see it, though it may never have existed, Nadir thought for a moment that one star; pointing east glimmered brighter than the others. But it certainly was a trick of the light, for he could not pinpoint it again in the sea of stars.


End file.
